Alone and Forsaken
by WraithTemplar
Summary: The five friends thought the rumors concerning the abandoned house were just rumors. They weren't. Set about a year before the events of Resident Evil 7. This isn't a song fic. I just thought the title went along with the story.
1. Chapter 1

Timmy shivered, but it wasn't from the cold. No, this was from fear.

He hated this house now. He wished his friends hadn't suggested the idea of exploring. He even wished he hadn't foolishly agreed to go in with them.

Timmy jumped out of his skin at every sound as he huddled in the bathroom of the house. The Dulvey Haunted House, his friends had called it. Rumor was that a family had disappeared sometime around 2014. After a thorough police investigation found no evidence, the case was closed and the house was left abandoned.

Or so they thought.

Word began to spread throughout the small Louisiana town, detailing strange noises and occasional appearances of the residents. It was official. The mansion was thought to be haunted.

But poor Timmy and his companions just _had_ to prove that the house wasn't haunted. They were stupid and ignorant enough to go inside, to see for themselves if the rumors were true. And now, huddling in the bathroom corner, a key clutched in his shaking hands, the boy was now suffering the consequences of his mistakes alone. Because they were all dead.

Grace, Phil, Stanley, Marlene….all of them. Dead.

Dead.

The word repeated over and over in his head, up to the point that he was certain he would go crazy.

Phil was the one who had first suggested that they spend the night in the supposedly haunted house. It was ironic that he was the first to die as well.

The five friends had decided to settle down in a living room. It wasn't too shabby. A brick fireplace, an old television set. The place was unsettling, to say the least.

"All right, here's how this works," Phil had stated. "We all stay here for the night, and we jot down anything that's out of the ordinary. First one to run home crying owes the rest of us ten bucks each."

Minutes had passed. Nothing had happened. The five teenagers had passed the time by wandering around and stealing any spare change they could get their hands on. Timmy had been eager to join in, but by the time he did, the only thing he'd found was an old family photo.

The photo contained a couple. The man appeared middle-aged, and wore glasses, a yellow shirt, and the shadow of a goatee on his chin. His arm was draped around a beautiful woman, about the same age, with greying hair and a warm smile that the young man found welcoming.

Without hesitation, Timmy had folded up the photo and placed it in his pocket. He knew it wasn't right, but he felt he had to save something.

For about an hour or two, the five friends explored the house, not caring whether they were invited or not.

That was before the friends had noticed that Phil was missing.

Stanley was caught up enough in his complaining about Phil's selfishness that he was barely able to catch himself as he tripped over the fireplace. A portion of the wall slid back, revealing a secret door.

At first, the group of friends had seemed more than willing to check it out. A secret entrance meant a secret treasure, after all.

But that eagerness faded as they discovered the lifeless body of Phil. His body was hanging from the hole in the floor, and half of his face looked like it had been clawed off.

Timmy and the others simply stared in shock and horror.

The boy violently pushed the memory away from his head, not wanting to remember anymore. From there, he had concluded that something was wrong, and therefore, had tried to leave. Stanley and the others, however, had decided to stay and find out what other secrets this house held. Stanley took the opportunity to intimidate the younger boy. So Timmy, against his better judgement, had stayed as well.

That was his second mistake.

Grace had fallen next. Unlike the others, her fear of the unknown kept her from staying any longer, and, being the paranoid person she was, she had tried to flee through the nearby shack in the woods. Her final screams could be heard all the way from the dreaded swamp, as she was killed by what Marlene described only as "a woman with a lantern."

Marlene's eye for detail, and her determination to uncover the truth, sealed her fate only hours later. She had learned much about Grace's killers in her final hours. She had also uncovered the identities of the missing couple. Jack and Marguerite Baker, Timmy remembered. She'd even helped point out a way for Timmy and Stanley to escape. Even in her final moments, when she was held at gunpoint by the woman with the lantern, she stayed strong.

Timmy guessed he still owed her for that. Her death was a noble one, but it had still caused the two surviving friends so much pain.

Stanley's demise had scarred Timmy the most, however. He could still hear his friend's screams…

* * *

 _The daring teenager opened up the door to the next room of the basement. "Are you sure it's safe in there?" Timmy asked._

 _"Relax," Stanley assured him. "Of course it's safe…uh, you go first."_

 _"What? No way! What if those killers are in there?"_

 _Stanley swiped the handgun he had found earlier, trotting into the room himself. "Suit yourself."_

 _And with that, Timmy was suddenly alone. Minutes of tension passed, and the only noise the young man heard was the clanking of metal. After what seemed like hours, Timmy mustered up whatever courage he had and stepped into the room. He had a stroke of luck. He found the key to the attic, along with a valve handle. The valve handle, seemed useless, though, and so he decided not to take it._

 _And then, without warning, the basement door slammed shut._

 _The young boy whipped around, trying and failing to open the now locked door. "Stanley!" he screamed, banging on the door. "Stanley, open the door!"_

 _No matter how hard he tried, the door wouldn't budge. Timmy kept banging on the door, not paying attention to how quiet the room had been only minutes ago._

 _That is, until he heard groans coming from the ceiling ducts._

 _The boy instinctively looked up. The metal of the ducts bent as what could only be animal snarls began to erupt from the other side._

 _Enough was enough. Taking a few steps back, the young man rammed his full weight into the door. He was rewarded with a loud snap as the crate that was roughly shoved against the door shattered into pieces. "Help!" he yelled._

 _"Calm down, kid, I'm right here," a voice shot back._

 _Timmy turned around to see Stanley doubling over in a fit of laughter. "Dear God, Timmy, I had no idea you screamed like a cat. Priceless!" The boy dropped to the ground, clutching his sides as he laughed some more._

 _The scrawny, younger teen felt his face turn red at the comment. "Maybe I should lock_ you _in with some snarling animal. See how you like it!" he shot back._

 _The humorous look on Stanley's face turned to one of confusion. "What animal? We're the only ones here, pal."_

 _"There was something in the vents, I swear," Timmy pleaded._

 _"Sure. That's what they all say," his friend deadpanned, waltzing over to the open door. After a few moments of looking around the room, Stanley turned back to face the boy._

 _"You see? There's no one here! Honestly, I don't know why—"_

 _A large, clawed hand tore through the vent, cutting off the bully's statement…and his life._

* * *

Timmy shuddered, trying desperately not to remember what had happened next. The boy had sprinted straight out of the basement, clutching the key and unsuccessfully trying to tone out the gunshots and Stanley's screams for help. He had ducked into the bathroom, desperate for a place to hide and collect his thoughts.

The bathroom was a mess. Blood was flowing in the toilet where there should have been water. Needles and syringes were scattered about, and a noticeable amount of blood stained the shower curtain.

The boy decided to rest a little longer, before moving on. Timmy knew leaving the bathroom wouldn't help much, but he just couldn't stand the blood in the toilet any longer. Every time he looked at it, he felt like he was sick to his stomach.

He slowly stood up, limping out of the bathroom and into the eerily silent corridor before him. He had a key to escape the house, and it looked like it wouldn't fit in the back door. Grace had already found and used that key once, and look how that ended for her. But there was another way out. Marlene had told Timmy that she had spotted a locked door in the attic. It was a shot in the dark, but it was also the only chance he had.

So with those thoughts in his head, Timmy picked up his pace, climbing the stairs to the second floor. In a matter of seconds, the boy made it to the attic.

The attic looked just as creepy as the other rooms in the house. Mannequins lay scattered around the room. The structure was unsettling, just like the rest of the house. An old-fashioned phone lay on a table to the right.

The boy briefly wondered why someone would own so many mannequins, but his thoughts stopped going crazy once he saw it. The attic door. The boy felt a smile creep up on his face as he gazed at it. His way out of here was right in front of him.

A loud ringing brought Timmy out of his trance, causing the teen to jump from his skin. Apparently, the old phone still worked. And it was ringing.

Cautiously, the boy strode over to the phone and answered. "Who is this?" he demanded.

He felt chills roll down his spine at the response. "I could ask you the same," a female voice answered.

"What?"

"You intrude on this property, and yet you actually _want_ to leave now? Quite ironic of you. I at least hope my friend didn't give you a rough time…" The voice, mysterious as it was, held a cunning edge to it. Part of him believed that she could be working with them. The killers.

"You can tell your killer friends that I don't want any part of their games. Just let me get out of here and go home!" the boy threatened.

"If you want to leave, fine by me. You've got the key out of here. Just try not to forget anything else on the way out."

"Anything else? What are you talking about?" Timmy asked, unable to grasp the meaning of the woman's strange words. "Tell me!"

There was nothing on the end of the line except static. That was all the reassurance he needed to decide whether or not to run like hell.

Sprinting toward the ladder, Timmy dug the attic key out of his pocket. As he climbed the ladder, the boy felt a sense of relief wash over him. He would finally be free of this place, of all the misery and fear and—

 _Bang!_

Agony exploded in his chest.

The boy's face contorted in a mixture of pain and confusion. And he knew he needed to get out fast. Timmy continued to climb the ladder, albeit slower than usual, refusing to let the agony get the better of him. He was so close to sticking the key in and opening the attic door. And then he heard another loud _bang_ from behind. And then another.

This time, his shoulder and stomach both flared into pain, and as he finally lost his weak grip on the ladder, he at last understood the woman's cryptic words.

The handgun. Down in the basement, with Stanley. He had completely forgotten about it.

Timmy collapsed onto the wooden floor, blood flowing from his wounds. He knew that the killers had found him, and his hopeless situation told him that there would be no escape this time. As he drifted in and out of consciousness, he could barely make out a figure slowly walking towards him.

It took his eyes a second to adjust, but when his blurry vision finally cleared, Timmy was barely able to suppress a scream.

It was the man from the photo. Same shirt, same glasses…and he was clutching the handgun in his right hand. And if the man's expression was anything to go by, he certainly did not look pleased.

When he finally spoke, it took Timmy a second to register over the pain.

"Got to admit, boy," the man stated, with a respect his enraged face contradicted. "You gave me quite a chase. For a minute, I thought you might actually make it out alive." His eyes fell on the handgun for a moment, before staring back at the boy bleeding out in front of him. "But only for a minute."

Timmy felt the man start to drag him by his leg, away from the ladder, away from the outside world…and towards the back deck leading to the eerie mansion itself. The young man could barely hear a slight chuckle and a few final words before he gave in to the darkness.

"Welcome to the family, son."

* * *

 **Hey, guys. For those of you who are keeping up with my fanfic, _Lasting Scars_ , sorry about the delay. It's been a busy week with finals coming up and all that. Just thought you should be aware. **

**In any case, I hope this haunting little piece of work will make up for the lack of activity. I've never played any Resident Evil game, but I've got to say, I'm a bit interested in Resident Evil 7. (I did play the Beginning Hour demo; it was scarier than I thought it would be.)**

 **Anyway, thanks so much for your patience and I will talk to you guys later. And for any newcomers and followers who enjoy this fanfic, reviews would be greatly appreciated. Have a nice day. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

Low battery. Exactly the two words Marlene didn't want to see right now. She'd just managed to get her phone back, after she'd lost it in that awful shack. First her friends disappear one by one, and now this…

Only hours ago, Marlene and her friends—Grace, Stanley, Phil, and Timmy—had traveled to this abandoned mansion, hoping to prove that the rumors of the house being haunted were false.

She found out the hard way that the truth was the opposite of what she believed. Phil's mangled body, hanging from a hole in the floor, was enough evidence to prove that. Granted, it wasn't like he didn't deserve it. Marlene warned him that stealing from someone would get him into trouble, but he didn't listen. None of them listened. And now, she was alone, all because her determination to find the truth had gotten the better of her.

The girl glanced out the window of the shack, silently grateful that the woman with the lantern—Marguerite Baker—had long since left. She could still remember the woman's words as she pointed the gun at Marlene's head. The survivor had heard the gun click just moments after she had given Stanley and Timmy directions to get out of the guest house.

"You won't stop them," Marlene had whispered, letting just one tear slide down her cheek. "They already know how to escape."

The southern accented response had sent chills down the girl's spine. "Yeah, they do," Marguerite had snapped. "Too bad you won't be able to see them try."

Marlene had decided to fight then and there. She had ducked out of the way just as the lantern lady pulled the trigger, barely managing to swipe the older woman's gun. From there, it had just been a matter of fleeing and hiding until the woman left.

She'd been praying ever since then that Stanley and Timmy have had similar luck. The attic was the only way out of the guest house now, after the incident involving Grace and the back door key. Marlene had witnessed Grace's grim demise firsthand. Grace and Timmy had both expressed doubts about exploring. In the end, it was Phil's intimidation that had coerced them into going along. Grace's paranoia had overcome her, just like Marlene and her obsession, and the former had payed the ultimate price for her mistakes. Marguerite found Grace eventually. After all, no one could hide from the Baker matriarch forever.

Slowly, the girl stood up, grabbed the handgun, along with the hatchet Stanley had given to her, and began the long walk back. She had some catching up to do if she wanted to see her friends again.

* * *

The guest house, for the most part, looked the same as it did when Marlene first explored. It was still creepy, without a doubt. Closing the door behind her, the girl tiptoed into the hauntingly familiar living room; the same living room she and her friends had holed up in, back when they were all still alive. Same television, same secret passage, same hole in the floor. Phil's body was long gone by now; Marlene's best guess was that the Bakers came and hid the evidence. The only new addition was the old telephone resting on the center table.

Marlene glanced around the room, only stopping when her eyes fell on a portrait. The portrait contained Jack and Marguerite, but the girl knew they weren't the same Bakers in the picture. The ones in the picture looked welcoming, caring, and definitely unwilling to kill her and dump her body somewhere. The teenager also noticed two kids in the photo, though she didn't recognize either one. The girl briefly wondered what could cause such an innocent looking family to suddenly start killing anyone unfortunate enough to stumble on their property.

She was suddenly brought back to reality by the sound of a phone ringing. Marlene whipped her head around, finding the source of the sound. How that old phone was even able to function in the past few years, she'd never know.

The teenager trotted over to the phone, picking it up with shaking hands. "Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?"

Moments later, a cunning voice she knew all too well answered. "Hello, girl. We need to chat," Jack Baker growled.

"Leave me alone, you creep!" Marlene threatened, slamming the phone down on the desk. She took about three or four steps away from the table before her own phone started to vibrate.

She could hardly believe her eyes. Stanley was alive. And he was trying to call her.

"Stanley? Thank God. Where are you?" the girl stammered.

"Sorry…he can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message after the beep."

Marlene could barely hold back a gasp. The voice was definitely _not_ Stanley's. Or Timmy's, for that matter.

"Honestly, girl, did you think you could avoid me that easily?" Jack deadpanned, chuckling evilly in the background.

The girl tried to maintain her composure, even though she knew Stanley was probably dead. "I'm getting out of here, Jack, you hear me? You won't get away with—wait a minute. How do you have my friend's phone?"

"Oh yeah, that," the head of the Baker family beamed, as if he'd suddenly realized he was holding Stanley's phone. "I'm afraid your boyfriend isn't going to be asking you out anytime soon."

"I'm warning you, if you so much as lay a hand on any more of my friends, I will kill you." Marlene threatened.

The cruel laugh on the other end caused Marlene's blood to run cold. "Good luck with that, sweetheart. Besides, if I remember correctly, you're the only one left. Your little friend gave me a run for my money, thanks to you. But I outsmarted him. And then I dragged him to the basement, and I showed him what harm I could do with some random crap from my garage. So, given how 'good' he did, tell me, what chance do you have?"

Marlene tried to respond, but by then, Jack had already hung up, leaving her standing there, confused and tormented. Stanley didn't make it out. That was one more friend gone. One more friend dead and buried. And if Jack's determination was anything to go by, the girl would say that the head Baker had killed Timmy as well.

Wait a minute. Jack mentioned something about a basement. Marlene certainly hoped it wasn't the one in the guest house. She'd seen the key out of this shack down in that basement. Stanley and Timmy were both sent down there to find the key, but given how Jack now had Stanley's cell phone, Marlene was sure they hadn't succeeded.

She knew she was hoping against hope, but there was only one way to know for sure. She had to know if Stanley and Timmy were still alive, if Jack's rumors were true. Against her better judgement, and her conscience telling her otherwise, she made her way down to the basement.

The basement's haunting atmosphere went along nicely with the rest of the guest house. The ceiling vents were torn in several places, and scratches ran along the length of the door. But none of that caught the girl's attention.

The only thing that caught her interest was the body slumped against the wall. Blood was smeared where the person had slid down the wall. His skin, pale as it was, offered a clear view of his veins. The arteries looked pitch black from the surface, as if there was ink flowing through them instead of blood.

Marlene slowly knelt down to get a better look.

That was a mistake.

 _GRRRROWWWWWLLLL!_

Marlene instinctively drew her hand back, recoiling as the monster began to snarl at her. The survivor wanted to run, to kill the creature, to do something, but she couldn't. Because this was no ordinary monster.

She could still see Stanley's pale face in the light, his blackened eyes conveying a silent plea for someone to save him. If she listened hard enough, she could assume the monster wearing Stanley's face was screaming two words: "Help me!"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, before taking out her handgun. Her hands shook as she aimed the gun at Stanley's head. In the back of her mind, she could recall every scary movie they saw together, every kiss goodbye, every time they saw each other in school. It all flashed before Marlene's eyes as she pulled the trigger.

 _BANG!_

One bullet to the head was all it took. Pained tears streamed down the girl's face as she stared at the now lifeless corpse of what was once her friend.

She felt like a criminal for looting her boyfriend's pockets. All the girl found was some spare bullets and an old lighter. With the dark deed finished, Marlene didn't hesitate to flee the basement. There was no time to give Stanley a proper burial. No time to say some final words. The last thing she wanted was to fall prey to whatever had killed Stanley and replaced him with…that creature.

Sprinting up to the basement entryway, Marlene was busy trying to catch her breath when she heard her phone go off. It was Stanley's number.

"Explain yourself," she demanded.

"So eager…" Jack reprimanded. "I take it you now know about the poor soul downstairs. Sorry, sweetheart. If it makes you feel better, everyone goes through a breakup at least once." His cruel, sadistic voice was replaced with one that displayed empathy, but to Marlene, she knew it was the exact opposite. "How do you think I met Marguerite, huh?" the killer continued.

"Screw you," Marlene quivered. "I know the way out of here. You've lost."

"So you don't want to visit with little old me? I'm sure your other friend's life will be worth it."

"You said I was the last one. Nice try, Jack, but I'm through with your insane antics."

"Oh, sweet, sweet…Marlene, isn't it? I don't think you've taken stock of your surroundings real well. Tell you what? I'll give you two options. Option one: you can get out of here, and _really_ be the last one alive. More fun for me. Or, option two: you can come on down the mansion, meet me face to face, and I'll show you that I ain't lying."

He seemed to sharpen a blade in the background before continuing. "But you better hurry. Or the choice could be made for you."

Marlene seemed confused at first, before realization hit her like a brick wall. Stanley wasn't the only survivor trying to escape. Timmy had tried to get out as well, and Jack had caught him.

She wanted to help her friend, but then she thought against it. For all she knew, Jack could just be hiding Timmy's dead body down there, as a means of luring her in and finishing the job. Hell, even if Timmy was alive, Jack could just be using him to get to Marlene. But what if it wasn't a trick? Jack wasn't lying about Stanley's fate. And Timmy had never really _agreed_ to come along to explore the house in the first place. Timmy had a fragile heart, and if Marlene did nothing, Jack would certainly break it.

The girl could feel tears sliding down her cheeks, as she put the phone to her ear. "Okay, I'll do it. I-I'll meet you down there," she whispered, feeling like a convicted criminal as she spoke. "Just let him go."

"Oh…fair enough," was the Baker husband's reply, as if he regretted offering Marlene the choice to begin with. "Your friend is down in the basement. The _mansion_ basement, not that junk pile of a cellar you were crawling around in. I'll leave the front door unlocked. Oh, and be sure to come alone."

"And where would this basement be, exactly?" the survivor questioned.

"You know this place almost as well as I do, girl. I'm sure you'll figure it out."

This time, Marlene ended the call, before moving on. She had a friend to rescue.

* * *

Due to the layout of the entire property, it took a while longer for Marlene to locate the basement Jack spoke of. Of all the places in the mansion, this one looked the least inviting. Just staring at the rusted, metal doors sent shivers down the girl's spine.

Slowly and quietly, she tiptoed her way down the stairs and pushed the door open, mentally cursing for the loud creak it made.

The basement looked and felt much like a stereotypical dungeon. The floor and walls were mostly iron and steel. Blood splattered over the walls like paint. Body bags hung suspended upside-down, stained with blood from previous victims. A trail of red ran along the floor, presumably Timmy's.

Marlene was just about to start looking for Timmy, or even Jack, for that matter, when she heard footsteps behind her. Pulling out her handgun, the survivor whipped around to face her adversary.

"Woah! Watch where you point that," the hooded man scolded, startled by Marlene's sudden outburst.

"Who are you?" Marlene asked, surprised at the newcomer.

"Uh…you stumbled onto my family's farm, girl. You tell me," the mysterious person replied, a manic grin forming on his face.

The girl instinctively pointed her pistol at the man's heart. He was with _them_. The Bakers. "What's your role in all of this? Which of the two murderers sent you?"

"Neither of them," he spat. "I'm on my own side. Not that the old man needs to know that. I just wanted someone to talk to. Is that too much to ask?"

"Sure, because the son of a demented family of killers is a really good choice for an associate," Marlene snapped sarcastically.

The hooded man raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to reply, but he didn't need to.

"Watch out!" he yelled, as a loud _bang_ rang out from behind them.

Marlene could barely feel the sting of the bullet passing through her shoulder. But that didn't silence her painful yelp as she collapsed to the floor, clutching her wound.

"What the hell?" he roared to the voice as he kneeled down beside her. "You all right?"

"I'll live," the girl painfully muttered, her hand stained red with blood.

The man started helping Marlene to her feet when he heard his phone go off. "Hello, Baker residence—"

"Is there a problem, Lucas?" Jack growled, clearly ticked off at the surprise guest. "Because I specifically asked the _girl_ to come here _alone._ Consider this your only warning: break the rules again, and this whole shenanigan ain't gonna end well for good old Timothy here."

Marlene, having heard the cruel threat, stared back at the older boy, her no-nonsense look backing up the head Baker's statement. "Wait upstairs."

Lucas didn't hesitate to follow the girl's orders. "You don't know what you're getting involved in, girl," he muttered as he trotted up the stairs, slamming the door shut behind him.

Marlene wouldn't admit this, but she silently wished the boy had stayed. Now she was on her own, and Jack would certainly show no mercy to her, not after she had evaded him for so long. Her shoulder wound definitely wouldn't help her much, either.

The girl looked around, hoping for any sign that Timmy or Jack were even in the basement, but there was only silence. Dead silence. Just as it had been when the five of them had broken into the guest house in the first place. Marlene refused to let her tears fall again as she realized how great of a mistake they had made. It had cost all of them much more than they imagined.

Grace's parents had been planning a divorce long before she joined Marlene. Grace was too eager to go along, hoping the exploring would take her mind off of things. Now that she was gone, how would her parents be able to take their minds off of the image of their daughter lying dead in a shack, while Marlene stood and did nothing?

Phil had planned the whole thing from the start, not just as a means of scaring his friends, but as an act of defiance, to prove his worth to those who bullied him back when he was younger. Phil, in his own way, had hoped for a sense of belonging. He had risked a great deal just to fit in, building himself up by shooting others down. The risk, sadly, wasn't worth the reward.

Marlene had known her boyfriend, Stanley, from the beginning. Stanley was a loner. No job, no family, and no home. His normally cheerful personality had burned away, along with everything else in that house fire. His risk taking had cost him everything. It had cost him his home and family. It had cost him his growing relationship with Marlene. It had cost him his humanity, due to whatever had attacked him in the cellar. He'd once told Marlene that no one would miss him, yet in her heart, she knew that wasn't true. She still missed him. She still wanted to bury him properly.

Unlike Stanley, Timmy wasn't normally one to take risks. Yet he had been forced to take several of them during his attempted escape from the Baker mansion. Similar to Stanley, Timmy's mother had perished in a car collision. Timmy reluctantly decided to come along for the ride, to prove that he was more than the scared teen Phil accused him of being. And now, trapped in some basement with a deranged man hell bent on torturing him, Timmy was probably more afraid now than he'd ever been. Terrified, injured, and probably begging for death.

Marlene felt heartbroken for them all. Yet she felt just as heartbroken for herself. Her own parents, her little brother, they were all probably worried sick, wondering if something happened to their precious family member. And if Marlene failed, something would happen to her, something horrible. And her family wouldn't be able to move on from it. She had to stay alive, for her sake, and for the sake of everyone she loved.

"I'm here!" the final girl shouted into the emptiness. "Let him go! I played by your rules, now let him go!"

There was silence. And then, she could hear it.

The cough was muffled by the steel door, but it was there. She was certain of it. Pressing her ear to the metal, Marlene was surprised when she found it locked, unlike the other doors. Sliding back the flap, she was shocked to find him slumped on the ground.

Timmy. Her only friend left alive.

"Timmy?" Marlene called, uncertain if he could hear her. "Timmy, is that you?"

The echo of Jack's voice caused the girl's skin to crawl. "Congratulations on your little victory, sweetheart…"

Marlene glanced around, her hatchet gripped tightly in her hand, her eyes determined to find Jack in the eternal darkness. And yet, all she could hear was his menacing laughter, mocking her. "You hear that, boy? Your pathetic friend has come to die for you!"

Silence.

The final girl heard nothing. No footsteps, no painful moans from Timmy, no cunning laughter.

Nothing.

She turned around, and weapons clashed as she came face to face with him.

Jack Baker.

The elder broke the block, kicking Marlene in a way that she fell off the balcony to the cold, steel floor below. The girl swiftly responded, rolling out of the way. In one move, the man was right behind the girl, his knife ready to kill. Marlene kept up with Jack's constant attacks, hoping, praying for an opening. Stomping on her opponent's knee, she swiped her hatchet at his shoulder, catching him off balance.

Jack looked into the girl's eyes…just as a bullet pierced his skull. Most people shot in the head would instantly crumple to the ground, dead.

The girl realized too late that Jack was _not_ most people.

The man—no, the monster—plucked the bullet from his forehead, flicking it away as if it were a speck of dirt. "Was that supposed to hurt me, girl?" he deadpanned threateningly.

"What the hell are you?" Marlene whispered.

He rushed the survivor again, barely giving her enough time to react before he roughly threw her to the floor. Marlene swept her foot out, causing the elder to trip. She barely gave Jack time to roll out of way as her axe slammed into the steel floor. Jack responded by kicking the survivor in the head, sending her sprawling, the hatchet clambering out of reach.

Then she noticed the key lying on the floor.

The man snatched his knife, towering over the girl. "Aw, don't worry. I'll tell Timmy you died quickly," he seethed, raising his weapon to strike her down.

Marlene could barely hear Jack's grunt of pain over the gunshot.

The girl whipped her head around, shocked to find nothing but smoke rising from the shadows.

Marlene, silently sending a thanks whoever had saved her, grabbed her handgun and the key, and sprinted over to the makeshift cell, unlocking the door.

That was when Marlene noticed the small pile of propane tanks, riddled with bullet holes, gathered near where Jack was standing. The idea came to her in a flash, the idea to put an end to the monster keeled over in front of her, to the horrors and the suffering she had been subjected to. So she took it.

"Jack!" she snapped, pulling out Stanley's lighter.

The head of the family whipped around, immediately realizing that something had gone wrong with his plan.

"You wouldn't dare!" he cackled. "Even if you light those tanks, I'll still be around! I want us to be a _family_! I'm offering you a gift, and you're not accepting it?"

The girl flicked the lighter, watching the flame dance. "Accept _this_ gift, you son of a gun!"

Marlene threw the lighter. The world around her burst into flames.

As the explosion knocked her backwards, and the fires consumed the monster, she swore she could have heard him speak, one last time.

"I! Will! End! You!" Jack screamed.

* * *

Blood. There was blood all around. The scent of it hung in the air. Various tools lay scattered on the only table in the makeshift cell. Some of them were simple. Others were more complex. A spiked whip, a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire…it was horrifying.

But what broke her heart the most was the figure slumped in the corner of the storage room. Had that monster messed up Timmy's face even further, Marlene wouldn't have recognized him as her friend. But it was still him, nonetheless. Mere words could not describe the pain the young man had endured. Cuts, bruises, a broken leg, a shattered bone sticking out of his arm. His torn shirt exposed an ugly wound on his torso, presumably from the more complex devices.

Marlene simply stood there and let her tears fall freely at the horror of it all.

"What the hell happened to you?" she wondered.

The girl was just about to stand up when she felt a hand weakly grip her own. She turned, slightly smiling at the sight of Timmy, his eyes halfway open.

"I guess you were right," Marlene whispered to her friend. "Situations like this _don't_ end well." Timmy, paranoid as he was, had pointed out in the first place that something bad was bound to happen to them if they went into the mansion. He didn't even know the half of it.

Knowing she wouldn't have long before the other Bakers came snooping, Marlene half dragged, half carried her wounded friend out of the makeshift cell, and together, they took their first steps out of the basement.

Marlene and Timmy limped toward the staircase, making it to the front door. Surprisingly, the door was unlocked, making the escape from the mansion much easier, compared to how hard the fight with Jack was. It took longer for the girl to reach Phil's parked car, and Timmy's dead weight didn't help much, but she managed. The short drive away from the rotting mansion was silent, and Marlene felt that after everything she and Timmy had experienced, silence was what they needed.

But there was still one thing she couldn't get out of her head. What about Jack's son? Was he even insane like his parents were? And if he was, how did he keep it under control? Marlene remembered the boy telling her that he was on his own side. Had he been the one to help her defeat Jack to begin with? Would she end up encountering the Bakers again?

She figured only time would tell.

"Hey, Timmy," Marlene piped up, glancing at her friend slumped in the back seat. "It's good to have you back."

The girl could've sworn she saw a faint smile written on her friend's chapped lips.

* * *

The basement was calm. Quiet. Small flames still flickered from when the propane tanks had ignited.

The man continued to sharpen the blade, revenge clearly on his mind. He'd give them time to recover. Better to make that girl paranoid. Better to leave her fearful of the man she had been unable to kill.

He barred his teeth upon staring at the picture of her. The one that got away. Stabbing the knife straight into the face on the image, he grinned. The blade was finally sharp enough.

"Told you I'd still be around…" he mumbled.

In the foreboding basement of the mansion, Jack Baker laughed.

* * *

 **I thought a lot about this since I last posted it. I guess I decided to post a second part just for the heck of it. Plus, someone suggested I help develop the characters a bit more. So, hopefully, this little ending accomplished that.**

 **Thoughts? Comments? Anything I can improve on with the characters, OC or otherwise (*cough*Lucas*cough*)**

 **Reviews would be appreciated. Thanks for the support and have a nice day. :)**


End file.
